


The Third Week Home

by DonovanS



Series: J. Moriarty (Post Reichenbach Mormor) [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coma, Head Injury, M/M, Physical Disability, Post Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 18:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonovanS/pseuds/DonovanS





	The Third Week Home

“Sebastian, **no.** " Jim growled, letting his body hang as deadweight in the Sniper’s arms.

“Sebastian, **yes.** " Moran replied, hauling the smaller man over his shoulder with far less difficulty than his boss had hoped. “You’re going to physical therapy. I don’t plan on pushing you around in a wheelchair and cooking your every meal for the rest of your existence.”

It had been over two weeks since Jim had come home, well, come to Sebastian’s home, and he’d been putting off leaving ever since. He chose instead to wheel himself into his employee’s private office and bury himself in all the incomplete jobs he could find.

Blackmailing, planning out a hit or two, he was in his element and he sure as Hell wasn’t going to leave it just to stretch a rubber band for four hours or more. 

“Jim! Let go of the door!” Sebastian’s patience was running thin as he pried the genius’ scrawny fingers off yet another door frame, this time that of the front door. Mrs. Jimenez from the apartment next door was staring wide eyed at the pair, her toy poodle tucked under her arm. Seb gave her an awkward apologetic smile as he untangled Jim’s fingers from the wood and carried him down the hall. 

“MORAN! PUT ME ON THE GROUND RIGHT NOW! _SEBASTIAN!”_ Jim flailed, kicking weakly and attempting to pound his fists against his captor’s back. It only took a few minutes for him to give up completely, too exhausted to continue. “Tosser…”

Moran just grunted a reply, placing his boss gently into the passenger’s seat of his Jaguar. He didn’t care much for the flashy thing but Jim liked it so he’d hoped it’d make him a touch happier….he was wrong.

“I should skin you for this.” Jim muttered, tapping his fingers on the window. Sebastian glared, mostly to hide the sympathetic look on his face, seeing how thin and weak his boss had become after a year of being completely dead to the world. Sympathy wasn’t something J. Moriarty appreciated, he preferred it when Seb was- 

“Jim, you can’t even fucking walk. You were in a bed for what, a fucking year? Bloody Hell, boss, you look like your _fucking cat._ Bones and skin.“ 

-Blunt. 

“Oh, _fuck you Moran._ “ 

The rest of the ride was blessedly free of complaints, save for Jim’s occasional huffs of irritation and a jab or two at Sebastian’s driving, before they finally pulled up in front of the ‘Mile End Hospital’ building. 

“Ah, memories.” Jim purred, smiling slyly when Sebastian shot him another glare. 

“Ya know, I’m no fan of the place myself.” The sniper sighed. “And carrying you through the doors isn’t exactly how I wanted to greet Dr. ‘Make-Sure-You-Don’t-Baby-Him.’”

They both rolled their eyes at the memory, three days out’ve the coma and ready to leave, Dr. Matthews giving Sebastian an earful about everything from ‘codependence’ to ‘diet.’ Jim had barely been able to figure out the words she was stringing together but he realized fairly quick after Sebastian began flip flopping from ‘Well, yeah one donut to help you feel better’ to ‘No! No donuts! Make your own toast!’ 

He had really spent the whole first week being terrible at caregiving, much to Jim’s chagrin.

“Well…now or never than.” Moriarty drolled, holding his arms out dramatically. “If you could hurry it up.”

Sebastian practically beamed, stepping out and swooping around to the side of the car. Jim rarely ever surrendered a fight over anything, particularly one that meant him being forced into something he didn’t want. 

“I promise I’ll pick you up somma that shitty pub grub you seem to like after this is said ‘n done.” He whispered, mouth against Jim’s ear as he lifted him bridal style out of the car. “Our little secret.” 

Jim just smirked, resting his head against Sebastian’s neck as they walked towards the building. 

Moran had to physically fight the urge to run his tongue over the stitches.

“And if Dr. Matthews finds out we lie through our teeth, yeah?” 

Jim laughed. 

“Absolutely ‘Bastian. Absolutely.”


End file.
